


Crimson

by TempTAEtion



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Baby Shadowhunters, Before Simon is a Lovelace, F/F, F/M, Faeries - Freeform, Friendship & Family, Jace Wayland is a Herondale, M/M, Mortal instruments - Freeform, NO SMUT I PROMISE, Next-Gen, No Max Michael Lightwood, Shadowhunters - Freeform, This is about OCs, This isn't romance, Vampires, Warlocks, Werewolves, platonic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 06:39:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10657017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TempTAEtion/pseuds/TempTAEtion
Summary: They thought they were safe.Next!Gen





	Crimson

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a next generation story about the children of the Mortal Instruments characters.   
> This was written before Born to Endless Night came out, so Max 2.0 doesn't exist here.   
> This is my first fanfic, so hopefully no flames.   
> Enjoy? x

Adele Herondale looked up at her home. The roof of the New York Institute shone blue in the after-sunset glow. She shivered slightly as a sharp Autumn wind pierced through her thin, black cardigan, sending bumps down her bony arms. Walking up the front steps, she placed a callused hand on the intricately carved double doors and waited patiently. A few agonizingly slow moments passed before the doors unlocked with a series of clicks. She rolled her eyes. Lazy-ass angelic blessings, she thought, and strode through into the Institute.

As she scraped her muddy feet on the torn up welcoming mat (Church's favorite toy), she saw a familiar puffy blue tail peeking from around the corner.

"Hey, c'mere you mangy cat!" 

Crouching down, Adele slid her hands under the midnight coloured feline and hoisted her up so their faces were level. The rest of his body drooped down as she held him from his armpits. 

"Where is everyone? Where's Mom and Dad? And the others? Whose home?"

She put church down. He gave her an annoyed huff, turned his tail in a display of offense, and led her down the corridor. The Institute looked the same as it always did. Portraits of angels, demons, and Shadowhunters covered the walls, spotted in a light grey fluff that might have been dust or spiderwebs. No one really knew. Or cared enough to clean. The polished marble floor, however, was almost spotless. This wasn't because anyone cleaned it. Nobody cleaned. But there were so many people living in the Institute, that their feet never gave the dust (or the spiders) a chance to settle. 

Adele was surprised to find that Church had not lead her to the bedrooms, like she had expected. Instead she found herself being led along the corridor to the main living room. As they got closer, a faint warmness washed over her, which could only mean that someone had lit the fireplace. 

She remember her mom telling her how cold it was when she first came to the Institute. How empty it used to be, the only residents who were there at the time having been her Uncle Alec, Aunt Izzy, her dad, and Hodge Starkweather, the deceitful tutor who died at the hands of her Uncle Sebastian. No one calls him Jonathan. Not even Mom. Not even his own sister dares call him by his real name. 

She was pulled out of her thoughts as Church stopped at the door of the living room. She shoved open the heavy wooden doors to see her cousins spread out comfortably around the fire.

Stretched out on the dusty old rug in front of the fireplace was Willow. The back of one of her hands was held against her forehead as if the heat had made her faint. Her deep violet hair spread around her in ringlets, like a princess. She turned her head to the door as Adele closed it shut behind her. The firelight gave the girl’s marble-grey eyes a manic glow. Adele thought she looked flushed; not that you could ever tell with Willow. Her skin was the dark red of dried blood. 

Willow was the daughter of her Uncles' Alec and Magnus. They all knew the tale: 16 years ago, Uncle Magnus had found a red-skinned Warlock baby on the steps of the Academy in Idris. So naturally, he had taken her home to his boyfriend. As far as adoption stories go, Adele thought it was a pretty interesting one. 

As she moved further into the room, her hazel eyes found Mark, sitting neatly in the corner of one of the antique couches, his feet crossed beneath him like a kid. He gave her a shy smile. Mark was the sweetest person Adele had ever met. He, like Willow, was adopted. But strangely enough, even though he wasn't biologically Aunt Helen and Aunt Aline's son, he still somehow possessed Helen's pearly blonde hair. The kindness, she felt, he had gotten from both his mothers. 

Casually lounging on another couch, was Max. His dark brown hair hung low in his eyes, casting long shadows down his angular cheekbones. He was much too tall for the couch, his feet hanging slightly over the edge. He looked like a panther, with his lean build and dangerous body language. You could tell Max was a Lightwood. He greatly possessed the "delicate", yet lethal aura that his mother and grandparents inherited themselves. Uncle Magnus always said that the Lightwoods (excluding Uncle Alec) were a manipulative family. Max had definitely upheld that legacy. But there was something of his father in him too. A predatory nature that both father and son had adapted since her uncle's time as a bloodsucker. 

The redhead dropped her small trunk onto the old marble floor with a thump. 

"Ew, it's you."

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if I should continue, but if people actually like it, then I will. x


End file.
